


We Have to Appear Flexible

by austenfan1990



Series: And Then They Came For Us [5]
Category: Babylon (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 06:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8738527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/austenfan1990/pseuds/austenfan1990
Summary: They're both sharply-dressed professionals and in this respect, Liz has twice found one of Finn's weak spots. The first time inadvertently, the second not so much so.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sharkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkie/gifts).



The first time it happens, it’s because Liz had somehow sent most of her clothes to the dry cleaners and the rest are currently being thrown about in her washing machine, courtesy of Finn mistaking the basket of freshly laundered clothes for old.

‘It doesn’t help that the baskets are the same colour,’ he says from outside her bedroom door which she had slammed in his face. ‘How was I supposed to know?’

‘“Sorry” is just a word in other people’s vocab, isn’t it?’ she shouts back as she goes through her closet.

Things like these usually wouldn’t faze her, having done the same herself in the past. But as always it’s Finn’s attitude which riles her, not the mistakes he’s committed…although the latter sometimes wouldn’t look out of place on an UN-issued list of crimes against humanity.

There’s a pointed silence – apart from the whirr and thuds of the washing machine which has decided to start its spin cycle. Finn shoots an irritated glance in its direction; he doesn’t need it compounding his offence and also not on a Saturday morning.

‘Right. Okay. I’m…sorry.’ He shuffles uneasily at the lack of response from the other side. ‘Liz?’

Through the door, he can hear odd scraping noises, like plastic scuffing off metal. What the hell is she doing?

‘Oh, I get it,’ he says after a moment. ‘You’re chucking my clothes out the window, aren’t you? Yeah, very mature, very – ’ He jumps when the door is suddenly flung open and Liz steps out.

No, she hasn’t disposed of his clothing, she’s…

‘You’re wearing my shirt,’ he blurts out. _And not much else besides, by the looks of it_.

If she’s heard him, she doesn’t show any sign of it. She shoves past him, her glare sending shivers down his spine…and further downwards which is unexpected.

Oblivious to the minor distress she’s causing, she unceremoniously plops herself onto the couch and takes up her iPad.

‘What?’ she demands when he hasn’t moved from his spot near her door.

‘You’re wearing my shirt,’ he says again, more observationally than reproachfully. When she deigns to look up, with the air of a disdainful goddess atop her throne, Finn gulps, suddenly feeling hot around the collar.

Liz wearing one of his dress shirts should not be doing things to him. Ditto her challenging stare.

In the face of this, he retreats and makes his escape, mumbling about going for a run. As the door shuts, he hears Liz – just out of earshot – yelling at him.

‘You’re the one hanging out the laundry when it’s done!’

By the time he steps out into the bracing autumn air, he discovers it might be a tad difficult to jog with a hard-on. Fuck.

* * *

Finn thinks he’s gotten over it the second time it happens. But what he hadn’t counted on is how far Liz has caught on.

They might not want to admit it, but they have a lot of more things in common than differences, and that extends to favourite colours. _That_ had been made very clear when Liz had opened her closet and found a veritable sea of blue. Finn’s encroachment on her wardrobe had been gradual; his overnight visits had lengthened into weekend sojourns and with them, various items of clothing. An undershirt here (‘Even dinosaurs get cold, Liz’ he had grumbled, seeing her amused grin), a pair of socks there. Rummaging for loose change at the supermarket, she had even found his cufflinks in her bag. Never had she been so grateful for self-service checkouts.  

They might not want to admit it, but their arrangement is veering in the direction of “distinctly domestic”.  

It’s also now gotten to the point where Finn can’t tell if he’s simply misplaced something or left it at his house. Tonight, he’s staying at the latter, planning to finally take stock of what’s actually there.  

His phone buzzes with an incoming text. Probably Liz. He’d asked her to keep a lookout for one of his ties.

_Think I’ve found it. Is this it?_

Finn scrolls down and nearly falls off his couch.

She’s sent him a selfie of herself wearing his tie and…literally bloody nothing else.

Fucking _hell_.  

He’s frantically trying to gather his thoughts when another text comes through.

_What’s the matter? Tongue-tied?_

Despite the heightening flush in his cheeks, this makes him laugh. She’s playing him round her finger and it’s everything he hates and despises. Paradoxically, it’s everything he loves and adores about her, too. Hell, she could drive him (or should that be “is driving him”) mad but he wouldn’t care as long as it’s fucking Liz Garvey.

So he decides to play along.

**“Tongue-tied” doesn’t quite cover it, but thanks.**

**PS. Dark red suits you.**

He follows this with some smiley faces. In a burst of disgusting facetiousness, he adds some with heart eyes, attempts to delete them and is mortified when he accidentally sends them off.

‘No, no, no, no…shit!’

Panicking, he throws his phone onto his couch as if it’s on fire. He contemplates putting his head under a running tap; ostensibly to cool off, but also as a means of possibly drowning himself, too. He does neither. Instead, he runs to his fridge to shakily pour himself a glass of water.

When he returns, Liz hasn’t replied though it’s clear she’s seen his texts. Dread and paranoia set in. Funny how he can unthinkingly hurl insults her way on a daily basis and yet some fucking emojis may prove to be his undoing.

His phone buzzes again and it takes him some time to even muster the courage to look.

_By the way, you’ve left your watch here as well._

Finn breathes a sigh of relief. He’s somewhat put out that he’s inadvertently put an end to their sexting. On the upside, however, she’s not referring to his slip of the tongue…thumb…whatever. He can live with that.

They spend the next ten minutes exchanging details on the other’s belongings and by the time Finn goes to bed, he’s nearly forgotten about it.

The next morning, he passes Liz’s office where she’s busy talking to Gavin. She doesn’t acknowledge his presence and in return, he casually flips her off by way of greeting.

Once he’s settled in, Mia comes over with a jiffy envelope. ‘Liz told me to give you this.’ At his look of bemusement, she adds, ‘Haven’t a clue what it is, either.’

Opening it, he finds his watch…and his tie with a Post-It stuck to it.

_PS. You don’t look half bad in red yourself._

She’s not only added the same emojis which gave him so much trouble last night; she’s hand-drawn them as well.  


End file.
